


Primal

by Dagny



Category: Herne the Hunter - Fandom
Genre: Folklore, Gen, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 08:14:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3888982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dagny/pseuds/Dagny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fiona receives something unexpected from Herne the Hunter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primal

“Hurry, the coach is here!” Joan’s voice was almost drowned out by the coach’s engine.  
“I’m coming!” Fiona limped toward the coach, boarding last as usual. She thought,  
'Joan has helped me so much on this trip! I’ll get her a small gift before the tour is over.'  
As she slid into her seat, Joan frowned at her in mock reproach. “You’ll be left behind next  
time, dear! Driver Tom complains that you’re never ready.”

“Well, he isn’t 62 years old, and he doesn’t have a limp that the doctors can’t fix!  
Anyhow, thanks for saving me a seat.” Fiona smiled gratefully at Joan, whose faded blue  
eyes twinkled with amusement at Driver Tom’s impatience. “I’m the youngest person  
on the tour, and I’m always the last one on the bus.”

“Never mind that, love! Have you heard the news? They just changed our day around,  
so Windsor Forest and Castle are now the only stop after lunch. We’ll have more time  
there than we’d expected.” Joan seemed happy with the change. “Maybe we’ll see Herne  
the Hunter after all.” 

But Fiona thought, 'Oh no, I’ll be exhausted when this day is over! Joan and I are both  
interested in Herne the Hunter, and I really wanted to see Windsor Forest with her.'  
She tried not to show her dismay, but she couldn’t mask all her disappointment. 

“But you said that nobody has seen Herne the Hunter since the 1970s. Why would  
he show himself today?” She nodded politely at Joan’s implausible reasons and didn’t  
believe any of them.

********************

As her tour group continued down the avenue at Windsor Forest, Fiona sat alone to rest  
in the shade of a large oak. Pleading exhaustion, she would rejoin the group on their return  
in an hour. Discouraged to miss the tour, she heaved an irritated sigh as she thought,  
'I knew that I would feel flattened by this time of day!' 

Closing her eyes, she leaned against the oak to rest. After a short time, sensing a presence  
nearby, she opened her eyes to see deer hooves before her. Blinking in surprise, she  
thought,' A deer would never come this close to me! What’s going on?'

Looking up, she saw a creature staring intently at her. His head carried an imposing  
rack of antlers, his eyes glowed, and his clothes were torn and ragged. She returned his gaze  
in silence, thinking cynically, 'He looks too solid to be a ghost! This must to be a joke on the  
American tourists…' 

But he crouched beside her then, whispering, “For these many years I have never  
spoken. But I must speak with you.” His voice rasped as if speech itself was painful.  
Convinced that he was part of an elaborate prank, she sat as mute as a stone, but he  
had more to say. 

“I know this much: you have come from far away.” She remained silent, so he spoke  
once more. “I am Herne the Hunter. I bid you, tell me this: why have you come to my  
forest?” 

'Why indeed!' she thought. Hesitant to meet his eyes, she stole a few quick glances  
at him, noting his tattered clothing, the wicked-sharp knife in his belt, the torc around  
his neck, his majestic rack of antlers. Encircling his arm was a snake, its tongue darting  
between its jaws; small forest creatures and birds had gathered around him, as if in  
protection. For a moment she thought that time itself had stopped, and she whispered,  
“I was looking for you.”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you want from me?” 

“I…I hardly know! But I mean no harm.” While planning her trip to Windsor Forest, she  
had never considered the why of it, knowing only her desperate need to connect with him  
somehow; he was as much a part of Windsor Forest as the tree against her back.

His unwavering gaze filled each passing moment, and he watched her as a wild animal  
would study its prey. Somewhere she found the courage to whisper, “I have always felt  
compassion for you.” 

His eyes widened in surprise but quickly narrowed with suspicion. Annoyed but intrigued,  
he rasped, “Why so? What do they say of me?”

“Some people say that you protected the king from a cornered stag, but it injured you  
terribly. So Philip Urswick brought you to your hut and healed you, but he took your hunting  
skills for his payment.” He bared his teeth at Urswick’s name, and she fell silent with alarm.  
Then his face smoothed again to impassivity, so she continued to share the tales that she knew  


“Others say that your fellow woodsmen envied your knowledge and abilities so much that they  
complained to Urswick, and he took away your hunting skills then. When you could no longer hunt  
and track game, you fell into despair and hanged yourself from an oak.”

“Aye. That was the way of it.” More and more forest creatures encircled him: squirrels,  
rabbits, mice, foxes, badgers, skunks, songbirds… Then he asked with his harsh voice,  
“How did you learn of me?”

“Well, people have seen you for hundreds of years, and they have written about you too.  
So I read everything that I could find about you. I came here because of you, truly I did!  
But I never expected to see you.” She thought, 'Joan says that Herne lives even now…this can’t  
be happening!'

His eyes shone with an odd, unearthly light. He rose in a swift, fluid motion, and so  
she scrambled to her feet as well, suddenly aware of her vulnerability. As he towered over  
her, he whispered, ““Come,” moving into deeper forest without looking back. When she  
followed, she saw that he was walking on the cloven hooves of a deer, and she thought,  
'Joan and I talked about that! It’s true then, it’s all true!' 

But she was feeling more and more afraid of him; His stride and strength greatly exceeded  
hers, and she was falling farther and farther behind. A small bird landed on a tine of his antlers,  
fearlessly chirruping its song, as he suddenly stopped to wait for her. She thought, I am taller  
than most women, but my head won’t even reach as high as the torc on his arm. 

“The Wild Hunt---do you know of it?” His eyes glowed with increasing, unnatural light.  
She felt a stab of fear and whispered, “I know what it is.” 

“We ride tonight…as will you!” He gripped her arms in his fearsome triumph, and  
suddenly she could not pull away from him. “No!” she screamed, but he was gone. She  
stood alone in the forest, hearing Joan call her name over and over. 

 

*************

Deeply concerned, Joan paced restlessly near the tour’s pickup site. She had expected  
Fiona to rejoin them after resting, but nobody had seen her for more than an hour. Joan felt  
sure that her friend was somehow in peril. 

Suddenly Fiona stumbled from the forest, deeply distressed, her eyes wide and staring.  
Her tour mates clustered solicitously around her, but Joan held her friend with all her  
strength, fearful that she would wrest herself away and flee. Fiona was babbling, “I want  
to go back! I’ve got to go back! I’m not afraid any more, Joan, really I’m not!”

But Joan held her firmly and refused to release her. “Yes, love, but the coach arrives  
very soon, you look exhausted, you must rest, please, my dear…” But Fiona fought her  
ministrations, her agitation increasing as the coach approached. Then she screamed,  
“Herne!” and Joan saw him near the road. 

With unnatural strength Fiona wrenched herself from Joan’s grip and ran to Herne,  
oblivious to the coach’s approach. Driver Tom swerved and braked frantically to avoid  
hitting her, but in that moment she was crushed under the coach’s front wheel. 

Horrified, knowing the worst, Joan knelt by her fallen friend. She saw a shadow of  
energy rising from Fiona’s body and darting to Herne, as if he was waiting for her; then  
they moved together towards Windsor Forest and quickly vanished. Grief-stricken but suddenly  
understanding, Joan thought, 'He came back for her...'


End file.
